


The Hemsworth Tales

by Rabbit_Head_007



Category: Showdown Bandit (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Humor, It's really only rated T for some minor swearing, Romance, Slow Burn, tags will be updated to reflect content if future chapters are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabbit_Head_007/pseuds/Rabbit_Head_007
Summary: Beneath the burning fall heat in a little town off in the valley, there sits a general store with a young woman named Penny sitting behind the counter. Growing melancholy from her mundane routine, she dreams of a life beyond shopkeeping. But when the Undertaker enters through the dusty shop doors, her days are thrown into ones filled with excitement and mischief.Follow Penny as she makes it day-to-day with the residents of Showdown Valley, as they try to find their place in this wild little world.





	The Hemsworth Tales

As the sun made its descent beyond the horizon, the sky became saturated in a deep lavender. The valley was whipped about by the rush of a strong breeze as the tangerine poppies that speckled the plains lifted their heads skywards, adding petals to the passing gust as it rose towards the clouds above. And standing at the utmost top of the plains, clad in dirty spurred boots and a daisy yellow dress was Penny, surveying it all.

She watched as the drowsy town below became slowly illuminated by fire-lit street lamps, windows, and kitchen fires. She watched as husbands greeted their wives and children, and entered into homes filled with life and noise, and as shopkeepers, now relinquished from their duties for the day, regrouped in the town square for idle chatting and saloon crawls. And as she stood watching it all, slowly being engulfed under the dark shadows of a passerby cloud, she wondered where in that town she was supposed to be. Deep in her heart she wanted to imagine herself beneath the dim lights of the street lamps, walking along the dirt roads with her peers, yet she knew better. She knew that the town’s apathy would fade her into obscurity, as it had already had begun to do. 

But as she continued to gaze into the town below, she felt as if somewhere hidden amongst the crowd, there was a pair of eyes watching her back. It was as if someone down there was waiting for her. 

As another gust of wind rushed by and whipped at her petticoats, Penny was surged with a sudden desire to race down the fields. So long as there was one person out there, she wanted to belong. She wanted to find her solace.

She began making her way down the plains, moving at such a fervent pace that she struggled to keep from falling over. Hiking up her skirts, she began sliding down the hills by the heels of her boots, kicking up dust as she went. But as she kicked off from the side of the plain and briefly launched herself from the ground, she felt the terrain swallow her whole in her descent.

The ground opened a void from beneath her, and sent her spiraling into an endless abyss. She took one last glimpse at the sky above her, now bathed in a rich purple hue, and as her hair and skirts whipped about her, she thought of the eyes that gazed back at her. She descended downward and downward below, slowly engulfed in a world of pure darkness…

Until she awoke in a small wooden room, dimly lit by the rising sun.

Penny listlessly rubbed at her eyes, and stared at the ceiling above, as she heard the town slowly wake up from the windows outside. She turned her head about to take in her surroundings as she felt the sleep slowly leave her head. It was a simple room to say the least. The floors, walls, and amenities were all wooden, save for a throw rug and a few pillows, that masked the room in a dull beige. The flowers that sat atop the small round dining table built for one had long since wilted, depriving the room of what little color it had left. And as Penny turned to face the body mirror on the opposite end of the room, she saw the state she was in. 

Splayed across the floor with one leg still propped up on the bed, she laid amongst the gaudy yellow bed sheets and dusty purple pillows that had spilled out from underneath her. Her bright red hair, which had been neatly kept the night before, was now unfurled and pooled around her head like a deep blood stain. And laid across her chest, the culprit to her lucid dreaming, was a frayed old book titled “Cabin Hearts,” a trashy romance novel depicting the tales of an injured frontier woman taking refuge in an old shack owned by a recently widowed seamstress. Due to its...content, many copies of the book had since been burned at the church’s hands, and was one of the few novels in Penny’s collection that had to be stashed away underneath the bed.

The silence of the sleepy room was punctured by a distinctive *pop* *pop* pop*, as Penny stood and stretched her joints. Bad dreams or not, it was time to start the day. The store wouldn’t open itself, of course. 

She rushed about the room, making light work of her morning routine, and tucked her hair away beneath her bonnet as she made her way down the stairs to the shop below. It was a modest shop to say the least. The bottom floor room was renovated to hold various shelves and barrels, each stocked to the brim with goods. Towards the back of the room was the counter, which stretched across the store to separate customers from the stockroom, kitchen and liquor cabinet. As Penny made her way to the front door, opening windows as she went, she flipped the sign to “open.” Before long, the usual crowd would come rushing in.

The chefs were usually the first to arrive in the mornings. Each one belonging to a different diner that were all unfortunately lumped together on the same street corner. Every morning the peculiar trio would come rushing in, squeezing themselves through the small front door, for none dared to let the other in first. They would grope and grab at any ingredients they could get their greedy hands on, and race to the counter where their bickering would continue.

“Miss Hemsworth, a pleasure to see you as always,” the first chef, who worked at the more high-end restaurant enjoyed by travelers, spread his goods across the counter, and flirtatiously slicked back his oily hair. “I trust you’re doing wel- oOF!”

He was quickly shoved aside by the second chef, who was rather broadly built, and worked at the cheap breakfast diner down the road. “Step aside ya damn wuss.” He clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows. “Mornin’ Penny, how are ya- ghhk!”

He quickly seized up, as the third chef, an incredibly miniscule man with a salt and pepper mustache, delivered a swift blow to his shins. He was the head chef for the local inn. “Alright move it Hemsworth, I ain’t got all day, make it snappy.”

The three of them grew increasingly aggressive as they began continued and fighting with one another. Having become accustomed to this routine by now, Penny silently reached for an apple that was placed on the counter. She knew better than to try and break up the fights, she learned that the hard way long ago. At least the mornings brought on a show.

As the sun continued to rise, more and more patrons would come in and out of the shop doors. Most were decidedly more pleasant than the chefs, and had become quite acquainted to Penny and her little general store. Despite being a resident in town for only a handful of months, she had become well acquainted with the locals. She had taken care to remember names and faces, and what people usually bought, and even more, she started a new tradition. Every morning she would bake an apple pie that only costed a penny per slice (the pun was very much intended on her part) for the customers to have as they idled through the shop. Sometimes people would enter the store just to chat and see Penny, while others came in just for the pie. But there was one woman whose presence Penny had learned to dread during the coming fall; the preacher’s wife, Mrs. Bailey.

A rather gaudy and voluptuous woman, Mrs. Bailey had a way of making her presence known wherever she went. She laid her perfume on so thick that you could smell her five minutes before she even arrived, and her jewelry was so bright and tacky that sometimes birds overhead would be blinded by it, and crash into nearby windows. And being a woman of God, she only ever stopped to check on the doves. But what made her truly abysmal in character was her loud, abrasive voice.

“Ohhh, Miss Hemsworth, what a pleasure to see you again,” Mrs. Bailey rested her bosom on the counter, and leaned forward towards Penny with a sneer, her pearly white teeth on full display. “I trust you’re doing well, hmm?” She turned her head a bit to spot a discarded apple core tucked to the side of the counter alongside a small plate dirtied with pie crumbs. She placed her hand on her chest in mock surprise. “Oh my dear! Pennyyy...should you really be eating like this on the job?” She lifted the apple core and inspected it, clicking her tongue with a scolding *tut* *tut* *tut* “A little lady like yourself shouldn’t be so greedy! Besides, eating like this puts all the weight on your hips, you know! You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Penny shuffled awkwardly on her little wooden stool, pushing her skirts out a little to make her thighs look smaller. Needless to say, she was a bit shorter and more bottom heavy than most women, but if less people like Mrs. Bailey were inclined to point it out, than it wouldn’t have bothered her as much.

“...it’s not that bad…” she muttered.

“Oh but it _ is _ !” Mrs. Bailey interjected, “why, if you’re not careful, your soul will give into temptation! And the wicked devil’ll drag you out of this shop by the heels of your boots!” She reached across the counter and grasped Penny’s hands, squeezing them with the force of a King cobra. “You simply _ must _ come to church tomorrow! You must repent!”

Penny fidgeted her fingers within Mrs. Bailey’s grasp, and darted her eyes about. “Ah, well y’see, Ah can’t come in tomorrow, ma’am, Ah got appointments!”

“On a _ Sunday _?”

“Yes ma’am, always on sundays…”

And it was true. On Sundays Penny took refuge with one of the few townsfolk who didn’t embark on the weekly pilgrimage up the cobblestone pathed hills and into the church doors at the edge of town. Her Sundays were better spent having tea with Doctor Carver, and he had promised to make angel food cake for dessert this week. She’d have rather spent her time worshipping that angel instead of the ones the church had to offer.

Just as Mrs. Bailey began to protest further, the two women were jolted by a deafening thud against the window. Another victim of Mrs. Bailey’s embellishments, no doubt.

Penny peered over to look out the window. “Oh, Ah think that one might’ve been a dove.” In actuality it was an albino crow, but she knew Mrs. Bailey wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Within an instant, the ostentatious woman went rushing out the door, only halted momentarily by the width of her bustle wedging her between the door frame. 

Penny dropped her shoulders and tipped her head back to let out an exasperated sigh. “Lawd, that heifer wears me out more than a dog during huntin’ season.” She reached for a small folding fan under the counter and began waving it at herself in an attempt to rid the immediate area of Mrs. Bailey’s horridly tart perfume.

There had to be more to life than this. It couldn’t just be an endless cycle of shopkeeping and idle encounters. Outside there were countless lives all working and toiling with the anticipation that there was something greater than themselves to work for. _ Someone _ greater than themselves to come home to. Each day Penny watched as people would come in and out of her shop, each one with exciting lives briefly punctuated by the banal work of simple shopping. And with each entrance and exit through those small front doors, she could see glimpses of the seasons passing just beyond.

There was a beauty to life, but reality had a way of steeping it in bleakness.

Penny briefly shut her eyes, feeling as if a small rain cloud was hovering over her, but as she re-opened them, she realized her world was suddenly immersed in darkness. Standing in the entrance, dressed in a black top hat, was a tall figure whose presence seemed to block any light from passing beyond the doorway. Penny watched in awestruck, as shadows enveloped the room, and somewhere in the darkness she could feel the eyes watching her. For a brief moment, it was as if time had stopped, and it was just her and the silhouette watching each other from within the warm darkness. And just as the instant came to an end, she could feel a hot flush creeping across her face.

The figure stepped forward as light slipped back into the room. Penny squinted her eyes as she readjusted to the brightness, and surveyed the tall newcomer. She was a hauntingly mysterious woman, clad in a black corset and grey blouse. From her neck hung a black tie with a red skull pin attached to it and slung behind her back was a large shovel; it was the mark of an undertaker. The Undertaker reached up to remove her top hat, revealing a mess of black hair matted with sweat from the burning daytime heat. She wiped her brow with bandaged fingers, and patted at the ends of her skirt, releasing a cloud of dust. Placing her hat back on, the Undertaker examined the shop, until her eyes fell back on Penny.

And she smiled at her.

The Undertaker kept the little shopkeeper within her gaze, and watched as her trembling hands caused her to fan herself faster, until eventually she clutched at her own wrist, halting her erratic behavior. As her fingers twitched, the little fan fell from her grasp and she was suddenly overcome with an interest to reorganise the shelves.

The Undertaker watched as Penny hopped down from the barstool, dispelling the illusion that she possessed any sort of noticeable height, and lifted a portion of the front desk to pass through, all the while nervously wringing her hands together and softly murmuring to herself. The Undertaker mused to herself. She liked this odd little shopkeeper.

As she wandered about the store, purposely moving slower than she did in most emporiums, the Undertaker kept Penny within her peripheral. She took notice of how the small redhead’s attention always seemed to fixate on whatever shelf or barrel was within her immediate vicinity, as if her presence alone caused the cupboards to disarray themselves. Sometimes, just to tease, she would take a step or two closer to her, only for Penny’s interest to suddenly shift to the shelves on the other side of the room. A grin grew across the Undertaker’s face as she decided it was time to properly introduce herself. Reaching for a box of bandages alongside a few cans of soup and a pack of matches, the Undertaker made her way to the front counter, only stopping briefly to look at Penny to indicate her intent to purchase. 

Penny felt as if her heart had dropped seven stories. With each step she took towards the counter she felt the world around her swirl more and more. Her breathing became heavier as beads of sweat began sliding down her forehead. _ It had to be the heat, nothing else at all, just the heat _. With clammy hands she lifted part of the counter to pass under it, and hoisted herself up onto the wooden stool.

“M-Mornin’ ma’am, will this be all?”

The Undertaker smiled and gave a little nod, as she placed a few coins on the counter. “Y’know...Ah suppose I haven’t seen you much around these parts, you new here?”

Penny lightly scratched at her cheek. “Um, yes, a bit. Moved here back in the spring, ma’am.”

As Penny fiddled with the cash register, the Undertaker looked about the shop. “_ Ah coulda sworn somebody else ran the shop awhile ago… _” She turned her attention to a portrait hung behind the counter depicting a man in a bowler hat with a red bushy mustache. The words “In Honor of Pop-Pop; 1801-1869” were written at the bottom in feminine cursive.

“_ Oh… _”

“Here’s your change, ma’am.”

The Undertaker pocketed the coins and placed her purchases in a brown cloth bag, and slung it behind her back along with her shovel. Stretching her hand out she grasped Penny’s hand to shake it.

“Well Ah just wanna say it’s always nice to meet a new face, ma’am. Glad to have someone pretty as a picture like you behind the counter!” She tilted her head up a bit so that her eyes could see past the brim of her top hat and gave her a warm smile…

A smile that was quickly dropped when she saw Penny’s condition.

The woman looked like a raving lunatic overcome with a case of the vapors, as a manic smile plastered across her face, the corners of her lips twitching ever so slightly. She let out a high pitched giggle beneath her breath, as her fingers shivered within the Undertaker’s grasp.

“_ Me? Pretty as a picture? She called me pretty?-She called me pretty!! Oh gosh golly, Ah wonder if she’ll take me out dancin’ one day?Goodness gracious she’s awfully tall-Ohh what if she asks me to elope? Ah wanna leave this old town so bad- _”

Penny continued mentally raving until she worked herself into a frenzy and her cheeks became as red as her hair. Her soft giggling grew into clamorous shrieking as what little air she had left inside her escaped. At the height of her lunacy her eyes rolled into the back of her head and just as quickly as she became quiet, she fainted off the bar stool, her nose colliding with the edge of the counter as she went down.

Mortified, the Undertaker peered over the counter to see Penny laying on the floor. Her leg was hooked around the peg of the barstool, and streams of blood flowed from her nose. All the while she was knocked out cold. The Undertaker lifted her hand from the counter and inspected it a bit, realizing there was blood there too. 

“A-Alright ma’am, c’mon, it’s Saturday, Ah can’t be buryin’ bodies on my day off.” The Undertaker quickly made her way behind the counter and squatted down to help Penny sit up. Cradling her close, she gently tried to shake her awake. Taking out a handkerchief that sported the same red skull found on her neck tie, she wiped away at the blood. 

“Wuuuhuuughh…”

“You comin’ to, darlin’?”

Penny gently placed her fingers upon her upper lip, and inspected the blood on her extremities. “Issat...Issat mine…?”

The Undertaker gave a solemn nod. “Musta been the heat, missy” (she knew damn well it wasn’t the heat). Taking a grip on her shoulders, she hoisted Penny up to her feet with ease, much to the shopkeeper’s surprise. “C’mon now, Ah’ll take ya to the doctor’s.”

Becoming ruffled up once more, Penny tried to protest, not wishing to cause any further trouble, but was quickly silenced as the Undertaker handed her the handkerchief and pulled her in close by the shoulders to support her balance. The top of her head just barely made it above her sternum.

Keeping her grip on Penny, the Undertaker helped to clear out the shop and send any straggling customers back home, as they made their way out the door. The two of them walked slowly, for Penny’s sake, as they made their way down the dusty roads. They spoke very little, save for the times the Undertaker checked in on her. “You doin’ alright there, shug? Need me to slow down a bit?” Penny shook her head and kept her grip around the Undertaker’s waist to help brace herself, occasionally hearing her heartbeat beneath the dusty grey blouse. Eventually they arrived beneath the shadows of Doctor Carver’s medical building.

The Undertaker whistled, taking in the sight of the gaudy edifice. Red mahogany wood with a black trim. “Man really knows how to decorate, don’t he?...You want me to walk ya in, hun?”

“Ah think Ah should be fine now…” Penny unhooked her arm and stepped away a bit to face her, offering the handkerchief back. “Thank you for your help, missus Undertaker. Don’t think Ah woulda made it here without ya…”

The Undertaker curled Penny’s fingers back down around the handkerchief. “Call me Lorelei, ma’am.”

Penny looked up to meet her eyes, as the warm fall heat enveloped them. “You can call me Penny then.”

“Well, Penny,” the Undertaker tipped her hat to her. “Ah’ll be seeing you around sometime soon, Ah reckon.” And slipping her hands away the Undertaker went back down the road, slipping into the dust. Penny smiled as her eyes welled up just the slightest. Gently placing the handkerchief into her pockets she made her way through the front door, unaware the Undertaker had stopped to watch her go in safely.

Perhaps there was more to this little life.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this, it's been awhile since I last wrote some fan fiction and it's nice to get back into the swing of things.
> 
> Admittedly, I'm unsure if this is something I'll continue, as I just wanted to get the writing urge out of me, but I do have ideas for future chapters nonetheless.
> 
> If future chapters are uploaded I promise there will be less goofy side-characters (unless you guys like them).
> 
> ~Rabbit-Head-007~


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